


motel morning

by winchestersinthedrift



Series: wincest drabbles [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Motel life, Panty Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-01
Updated: 2015-09-01
Packaged: 2018-04-18 11:37:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4704680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/winchestersinthedrift/pseuds/winchestersinthedrift





	motel morning

Sam wakes up to the sound of a frying pan popping and he lays for a minute with his eyes still closed thinking that’s really fucking weird because he’s pretty sure he’s laying underneath the unmistakable polyester of a motel bedspread. Then he gets his eyes open a slit and remembers - all the rooms in this dinky motel of the week have kitchenettes (well, glorified hotplates, really, with a tiny fridge underneath and two lonely pots in the cupboard below, a warped saucepan and a frying pan). 

Dean is standing in front of the hotplate with his back to the room and he’s wearing one of Sam’s Stanford tshirts, worn thin now and long enough on Dean to cover his ass and hang halfway down his thighs. Below the hem his legs are bow-legged and muscular, this late in the summer dotted with freckles even on the pale backs of his knees. Sam notices for maybe the 2057th time how broad his brother’s shoulders are and how the thin fabric hangs off them like he’s some kind of Greek demi-god sculpted in marble. 

Sam gets up and pads across the room in bare feet and boxers. Dean’s going commando, the little shit - no boxers peeking out from beneath the tshirt - and it’s hot as fuck though Sam’s not totally sure he should be doing it around hot oil. With that in mind he grunts lazily as he comes up behind Dean before he runs a hand up his brother’s thigh to the curve of his ass. 

Dean half-turns and grins right at the same second that Sam’s hand runs over something slippery and tight and definitely _not_ Dean’s skin. His mind runs roughshod and quick over possibilities - has Dean started wearing briefs? but why are they so tight and … _silky_? And - 

Dean turns a little further, so that his hip’s against the counter and he’s half-facing Sam, and just as Sam’s brain slots into gear and supplies him with a word - panties - his hand lands on Dean’s cock, firm and filling and already pressing out in a curve from the slit in a pair of crotchless panties. Black silk crotchless _panties_. 

The visual is so insanely hot and unexpected that Sam just stands there, mouth fallen open and with Dean’s cock lurching and sticky under his palm. 

‘Heyyyyy,’ says Dean, drawling it out and hooking up one corner of his mouth in the way he knows makes Sam crazy, just stands there fucking _smirking_ , and Sam turns off the hot plate (it takes him a minute because his brain isn’t exactly working at top efficiency right now) and picks Dean up by the ass, fingers gripping tiny bruises inside the panties. Then he’s got his brother up on the lip of the counter, hands pressed against Dean’s thighs to hold him there, and he’s shuffling up closer on his knees and licking the top of Dean’s cock, stiff and turgid now and twitching, balls trapped behind the slit of the panties’ crotch.

‘You sexy fuck,’ says Sam, even and low, and presses his brother’s thighs further apart.


End file.
